Orbital
by Draconicality
Summary: Things change, circumstances change, everything is subject to change. Even people you'd expect to be mortal enemies. [post-series, challenge-inspired, Yzak x Kira]
1. Beginning

**Orbital**

_I wouldn't fool you but I've seen the saucers  
So many times I'm almost in tune  
Watching them flying in formation  
Thinking how I could be so immune  
I've seen them I've been there with them  
I can tell you all you want to know  
Something touched me and I was only sleeping  
Wouldn't you, wouldn't you like to go_

_**(Elton John)**_

_one:_

Dearka Elsman was being annoying. It was a skill that came easily to him, and one that he had honed over the years to perfection. Especially when he was given a convenient object to do it with, such as the ping-pong-ball he was now using.

Ask question with just the right amount of whininess. Bounce the ball. Catch the ball. Wait fifteen seconds. Repeat question. Repeat bouncing. It was a tried-and-true method, and he had only to do it for a short time before the other occupant of the room decided to either shoot him or answer. And because he was the _bodyguard _of the other occupant of the room, the former option was just the slightest bit stupid.

"Are you done here yet?" _Click. _"Are you done here yet?" _Clack. _"Are you done here yet?" _Ptoing. _"Are you—"

"Why do you care?" came the annoyed reply at last, a pair of bright blue eyes and several strands of disarrayed silver hair emerging from behind the stacks of paperwork on the desk. "You're not the one reading through these pieces of _drivel_ from a clueless bunch of...hell, it doesn't matter if they're Naturals or not, they're all _idiots!" _This last emphatic word was directed at the report he was holding, which he had covered in red scrawls of handwriting. "Like we have time to _care _about every little shipping problem they have when _Blue Cosmos _is out in force and setting _bombs _in the PLANTs!"

Dearka allowed the ranting to continue for a while, since it was justified and not aimed at him. Better to let his friend take it out here in the quiet of his private office, as opposed to a broadcasted negotiation meeting. He'd volunteered to be the soldier-turned-Council member's bodyguard after realizing that Yzak, sometime in between the battles they had fought, had learned to control his temper, but not completely. The tanned blonde was still the only one who could keep him calm when his rather short fuse reached its limit – essential in a job where Yzak's punching someone in the face could cause another war.

"A-HA!" the silver-haired man crowed in triumph, stabbing his finger (and pen) at a sentence in the new report he'd picked up while Dearka was musing. "Obsolete! Why is this even in here, anyway?" He proceeded to slash out whole passages of it, mood having swung from annoyed to gleefully vindictive. "No, no, no, and...no!" The report found its path through the air to the wastepaper bin, joining the endless sad multitude of others like it.

From his seat, Dearka just rolled his eyes. "I told you to take it easy on the coffee this morning, but would you listen? Nooo..."

"Oh, shut u—what's this?"

Dearka caught a glimpse of bright pink as his friend waved the latest find, and started onto his feet in surprised recollection. "Oops. I forgot about that. We have a party to attend this evening." He'd been informed about it, and his own envelope was tucked firmly away in a pocket, but he hadn't realized that Yzak hadn't been told as well. They _had _been out most of that morning, so the messenger must have just dropped it on the desk...

Yzak recoiled, and he grinned.

"Post-war celebration victory, one the one evening where everyone's schedule is free, arranged for six weeks now – any of that ring a bell?"

It did. Yzak was wincing, and his tone was almost petulant as he asked, "Do I _have _to go?" Duel's former pilot was a notorious wallflower, known for avoiding as many social events as possible. This one, however, Dearka was perfectly willing to drag him to whether he agreed or not, and he knew that Yzak probably knew this, which made things maybe a little less complicated. Or not, since he knew exactly what was going to come out of the other's mouth next...

"WHY?"

"Because Athrun says so."

Yzak's brow furrowed slightly at the mention of that name, but he didn't immediately start besmirching the Zala name...further proof that he'd matured just a little. Instead, there was dead silence, and something stubborn in it that told the blonde he'd have to resort to drastic measures.

"He still has that tape..."

"Tape?"

"You know..."

And Yzak did know, because suddenly the stiff set of his jaw was gone, and he looked just the slightest bit terrified – a very rare sight, and Dearka almost felt guilty for being the one to bring it up. "I'll...go." It was reluctant, and there was the slightest of tremors in his voice.

The blonde _knew _he'd be paying for this later on, but decided to worry about that when it came. He still had to coax Yzak to wear something that wasn't a uniform, after all...

* * *

_Authoress ramble: I was on crack when I wrote this, I swear. And it'ssoSHORT, but I couldn't bring myself to type any more._

_This is a response to the Yzak/Kira challenge given awhile back, since the idea and pairing intrigued me enough to give me ideas for a fic._

_Please don't kill me for writing this. Yzak _really _belongs with Dearka, I swear...hell, this chapter is interpretable as DeaYza ; But yes, I think you've had enough of my groveling, and Kira, Athrun and a bunch of other people waltz into the hopefully longer next chapter. Review? It'll help get this story out quicker. XD_


	2. Drifting

**Orbital**

_Stars climbing into their planets  
Systems won, controlled from birth  
Empty living on this highway  
Can you see me, mother earth?_

_two:_

"So, how does this one look?"

Yzak sounded grumpier than normal, and small wonder. Were he not part of the military, Dearka would have made a fine politician, or possibly a teacher for children with an attention deficit – his powers of persuasion were that good.

Even _without _the threat of blackmail.

He'd been paraded in and out of their walk-in closet for the past several hours since leaving work early, being coaxed and cajoled by his blond friend to try what seemed to be a hundred suits and then some. A few he could swear to never having seen before, and he had the sneaking suspicion Dearka had been adding to his wardrobe while he was otherwise preoccupied with work, snarky dignitaries, or other sources of distraction.

Thankfully, judging by Dearka's expression, he'd finally found one suitable to attend the party in.

"Perfect," the blonde told him with a pleased grin. "Check in the mirror."

He eyed himself dubiously as instructed, and was surprised at how elegant it looked. The white outfit was a stunning contrast to Dearka's chosen dark-purple one, helped out by his pale skin (unmarred by a scar at last, thanks to the wonders of restorative surgery), and silver hair.

If there was one thing Ezaria could be proud of, it was knowing that her son. Always. Looked. Good.

"Okay," he muttered, eyeing himself for a few moments more, trying not to make it look _too _obvious that he liked it. "We're ready. Let's go."

"Just don't spill your wine this time; dry cleaning bills are the most evil ones around…"

"That was _your _fault."

* * *

Athrun Zala worried often, enough so that his wife-to-be enjoyed teasing him about his impending Frown Lines of Doom every time she saw his brow furrow. 

This time, though, Cagalli was worrying too.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" she asked him quietly as she wove green ribbons through her hair, the formal style Kisaka had requested for the evening. Even though she was essentially leader of a nation that had been broken into pieces and even now was only beginning to rearrange itself. Even though she hated dresses and fancy hairstyles. Even though. Even though. She guessed she owed them all something, and to give back a minuscule fraction of it, she'd suffer making herself look like some artist's parody of an old-Earth cornfield.

Kira had smiled when he'd seen it, though, which at the same time made her more accepting of the ridiculous ornaments, and brought her back to their current situation – the state of her older twin.

"I asked him again if he wanted to come, this morning," the dark-haired man replied as he straightened his clothing, standing next to her to check in the mirror. He had his serious face on; the one he always wore when Kira came into the conversation. "He finally gave me an answer."

She glanced at him – his real face, not his reflection – and realized with surprise that now Athrun's lips were curved in a small, sad smile as he continued. "He said he would…Cagalli, is that a good sign or a bad one? Everyone there will have been involved in the war. And he wants to _forget…"_

She placed a hand over his, understanding. Since his final fight in the now-destroyed Freedom Gundam, her brother had remained at the Star's Valley orphanage along with Lacus Clyne, and from what they had seen of him during every visit they'd managed to squeeze in the time for, he hadn't left the place at all, and simply grown more and more withdrawn and reticent. Lacus, closest to him on an everyday basis, described it best when she'd whispered to Cagalli_, 'I'm afraid Kira is lost.'_

Lost indeed, with no one to find him. Not Athrun. Not Lacus. Not even her.

"If he wants to," she found that a lump had risen in her throat, checked herself, and began again. "If he wants to go somewhere, do something, it can only help him, right?"

"I don't know…" Athrun's hand moved under hers, their fingers interlacing and squeezing comfortingly. He sounded almost helpless, and she realized with more than a little terror that he was speaking for both of them. "I just don't know."

* * *

"Mr. Yamato, Mr. Yamato!" The children called to him from within. He inclined his head without taking his eyes from his view of the afternoon sea and sky, so bright only Coordinator eyes could take in the sight without hurting. "It's almost time to go!" 

_But I thought…? _A muffled roar convinced him to tear his gaze away and rise from his chair on the porch, moving through the orphanage-house and a throng of excited children to where Lacus stood by the door, watching the newly-arrived helicopter kick up clouds of dust. _Oh. Right. We're miles away from the cities…aren't we. _The noise made it hard to think.

"Kira!" The pink-haired singer spun to face him, looking delighted as her eyes alit on his clothes. "You look wonderful…don't you think so, Haro?"

It beeped out a string of nonsense that might have qualified as a 'yes,' and bounced.

"Oh…it's nothing. The kids laid it out for me…I didn't even know a suit existed on this island." He tried a grin of his own, but was unable to summon more than an upward twitch of his mouth. "You look pretty too, Lacus." He attempted just a hint of enthusiasm, too – the deceptively simple white dress she wore did look stunning on her – but the words came out flat and quiet.

"Well of course, silly! Haro helped me pick it out!" The pilot was waving at them from within the vessel, and his companion dashed back inside for a second, grabbing a purse from the table and making it out in time to follow her Haro into the 'copter. "Kira, Kira, come on or we'll leave you behind!"

"_Haro! Mitometakunai! Haro, haro!"_

He hesitated. _I want to…don't I? She's fretting over me again. I can see it, but I can't do anything about it. I keep dreaming about the war, and then when I wake up I'm afraid to face her or the children._

_And now I'm going…back?_

Out of nowhere, Torii alighted on his shoulder and danced fretfully from one foot to the other, chirping its familiar response over and over, breaking his chain of thought.

_Athrun wants me back, right? And my sister. She's my sister, now. They're getting married, aren't they? _Odd how a little mechanical bird could make him think so quickly and so deep. _And if I don't go…who's to say I ever will?_

He stepped up and on, the pilot fiddled with the controls, and they took off. Kira busied himself with looking at Torii, at Lacus; at asking Haro nonsensical questions—at anything but having to think.

* * *

_Authoress-ramble: Oh, don't you just love it when you get in the writing mood upon arriving at a restaurant without even a spare piece of paper on you? Filched a pen from mom's bag, and wrote about half the chapter on a handful of napkins._

_I actually had a good reason for delaying a post this time, because I've moved from Manila, Philippines to Vancouver, Canada – right to the other side of the world, from the tropics to the land of CO-O-OLD! Brr!_

_Back to the story- le gasp! AsuCaga? I'm writing het pairings now, shame on me! XD But…what the hey…those two are a cute canon couple, one of the few that really, really works, all the way into Destiny…(Is ZAFT superior because their lady captains wear pants? Oo And Rey is a clone with a DAMN fine ass. And why is Gilbert straight? He's too pretty to be straight…Yzak and Dearka are back YAY!) But, I don't know how well I wrote Kira's POV. He's a damnably complicated personality._

_DreamAnimeKitten – Thank you…they do seem a rather cute…insanely violent couple, don't they? Fyre – You. Must. Watch. More. Moooore! shakes kitsune-sama – XD I'm very glad to be of service. Kuraii Koneko – It's a little bit of a stretch to imagine them as a pairing, but under the right circumstances, it's quite possible, ne? Good to know you approve. BlackDragonGirl – Again, happy to be of service._

_Expect Chapter 3 sometime soon!_


End file.
